A Dangerous Game (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 2)

by Laura Beers

  “I am used to riding on the back of the coach,” Mary commented. “It is much more enjoyable and not nearly as stuffy.” She grinned. “Although, you do risk the chance of swallowing a bug.”

  “A bug?”

  Mary nodded. “It isn’t as awful as it sounds.”

  “Well, I am grateful that you accompanied me to Lockhart Manor,” Emmeline said.

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me for doing my job, milady.”

  Emmeline ran her fingers along the coral necklace around her neck. “I was saddened that Oliver was not there to see us off.”

  “Did you expect any different?” Mary asked in a knowing tone.

  “I suppose not,” she muttered.

  Mary tilted her chin. “Are you sure he even came home last night?”

  “He did, and Jane confirmed that Baldwin informed him that I was leaving.”

  “Then he is a jackanapes,” Mary declared.

  A giggle escaped Emmeline’s lips at the unexpected remark. “That is terrible of you to say. After all, he is still my husband.”

  “He is the worst of husbands,” Mary pointed out. “He didn’t even try to stop you from leaving.”

  “I daresay that it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  “I know, but he still should have made some sort of effort.”

  Emmeline bobbed her head. “I agree,” she replied. “Perhaps his heart will soften while I am away.”

  “Or it will harden even more.”

  The coach turned onto a road leading them up a long, winding hill towards a modest manor situated near a cliff. As they approached, Emmeline admired the bow front, canopied balconies, and an expansive green lawn that surrounded the property.

  “It’s lovely,” Emmeline remarked.

  “That it is, milady.”

  The coach came to a stop in a circular gravel courtyard, and Emmeline waited impatiently for the footman to place the step down. Once the door opened, she accepted his hand and exited the coach.

  Bright, colorful flowers lined the sides of the brick manor, and she couldn’t help but smile. The main door opened, and a portly man with slicked-down brown hair greeted her with a polite smile on his lips.

  “Good evening, milady,” he said, opening the door wide. “We have been expecting you.”

  “You have?” she asked as she stepped into the entry hall.

  “Mr. Clarke sent a rider to inform us that you would be traveling shortly to tour the property,” he explained. “I do apologize that we weren’t waiting out front for your arrival.”

  “You will find that I rarely stand on ceremony.” Her eyes scanned the entry hall and noted the ornate woodwork and ivory-papered walls. A set of narrow stairs ran along one wall to the second level.

  “Welcome to Lockhart Manor,” the butler said. “My name is Arthur Grubbs, milady, and I have been the butler here for the past twenty years.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Grubbs.”

  The butler eyed her for a moment. “I must say that you bear an uncanny likeness to your mother.”

  “You knew my mother?”

  He nodded. “She would occasionally travel with the late Lord Taylor to tour the manor,” he revealed.

  “I hadn’t realized,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I have only recently learned about Lockhart Manor.”

  “Would you care for a tour?” he asked.

  “I would, very much.”

  Before he could start the tour, an older woman with silver hair approached them with an apologetic look on her face. “I do apologize for not being here when you arrived, milady,” she said in between breaths. “I was speaking to the cook about our supper.”

  Grubbs gestured towards the woman. “Allow me to introduce you to the housekeeper, Mrs. Winters.”

  Mrs. Winters dropped into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, milady.”

  Emmeline tipped her head. “Likewise, Mrs. Winters.”

  “Were you able to travel with a lady’s maid?”

  “I was.”

  “Excellent,” Mrs. Winters said. “I will personally ensure that she is properly settled.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  Mrs. Winters turned her attention towards Grubbs. “I would be more than happy to take Lady Oliver on a tour of the manor.”

  Grubbs offered her a stiff bow. “Thank you, Mrs. Winters.”

  As the butler walked down the hall, Mrs. Winters gave her an expectant look. “If you are not opposed, we will start the tour in the drawing room just off the entry hall.”

  “That sounds delightful.”

  Mrs. Winters gestured towards a door to her right and said, “After you, milady.”

  Emmeline stepped into the room that the housekeeper indicated and was impressed by the green-papered walls and large fireplace that dominated one wall. A shiny, black pianoforte sat in the corner and blue velvet settees were arranged in the middle of the room.

  “This room is exquisite,” she said.

  Standing in the doorway, Mrs. Winters nodded in approval. “During the day, the windows in this room allow plenty of light,” she shared. “Would you care to see the dining room now?”

  “I would,” she replied, walking towards the door.

  “The main level holds a drawing room, dining room, library, study, and a morning room,” Mrs. Winters explained as she stepped back. “The upper level has an additional drawing room and six bedchambers.”

  “There is a library?” Emmeline asked eagerly.

  “Yes, milady,” Mrs. Winters replied as she led her down a narrow hall. “It is next to the study, and I must admit that it is your uncle’s favorite room, as well.”

  “It is?”

  Speaking over her shoulder, Mrs. Winters informed her, “He spends most of the time in the library when he comes to visit with Lady Taylor.”

  “How often does my uncle visit Lockhart Manor?”

  “Every few months or so,” Mrs. Winters replied, “but he doesn’t always bring Lady Taylor with him.”

  Her steps faltered. “Truly?”

  Mrs. Winters looked back at her in surprise. “Is there an issue with Lord Taylor visiting Lockhart Manor?”

  “I suppose not,” she muttered.

  “Frankly, we were all rather surprised to discover that you had inherited the estate,” Mrs. Winters shared as she came to a stop in front of an open door. “We had just assumed Lord Taylor held ownership of the property.”

  “I only recently learned that I had inherited the manor,” she admitted.

  “Well, it is a fine property,” Mrs. Winters said with a smile, “but I may be a bit biased.” She gestured towards the door. “Here is the dining room.”

  Emmeline glanced into the room and admired the red-papered walls and the gold chandelier hanging over the center of a large rectangular table.

  “The next door is the library,” Mrs. Winters revealed, “and I am pleased to inform you that there are many first edition books in your collection.”

  “How wonderful.”

  After they had toured the remainder of the main level, they walked up the stairs to the upper level. They walked a short distance and Mrs. Winters pointed at a door. “That is your bedchamber,” she revealed as she moved to open it.

  Emmeline stepped inside and noticed how feminine the room was. It had pale purple walls, ivory drapes flowing in the gentle breeze from the open window, and floral upholstered chairs in front of the fireplace. A large, four-poster bed sat against the far wall, and her traveling trunks were next to the dressing table.

  “This is lovely,” she acknowledged.

  Mrs. Winters lit a candle on the dressing table before she walked over to a door near the fireplace. “Through here is your husband’s bedchamber,” she said, opening the door. “Would you care to see if it meets your approval?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Emmeline replied. “I trust Lord Oliver will inform me if there is an issue with his bedchamber.”

 
; “As you wish.” Mrs. Winters closed the door. “Will Lord Oliver be joining you during your visit?”

  “No, he will not,” she replied. “I came to tour the property on my own.”

  “Very good, milady.”

  A knock came at the door, drawing her attention.

  “Come in,” Emmeline ordered.

  The door opened and Mary stepped in the room with a valise in her hand. “I see that I found your bedchamber.”

  “That you did,” Emmeline said.

  Mary placed the valise down by the trunks and her eyes roamed the room. “This room will do nicely for you, milady.”

  “I believe so, as well.”

  Mrs. Winters stepped over to the door and announced, “Supper will be served promptly at eight, unless you would prefer a tray to be sent to your room tonight.”

  “I am rather tired from my journey,” Emmeline commented. “Would you mind sending a tray up for me?”

  “Not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Winters.”

  Mrs. Winters smiled at her. “I think you will be very happy at Lockhart Manor, milady, and the entire staff is pleased that you are with us.”

  “Thank you for your kind words,” Emmeline said graciously.

  With a parting glance, the housekeeper left the room and closed the door behind her.

  Mary let out a sigh and stretched her arms out. “I am in love with Lockhart Manor,” she declared.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it is nearly impossible to get lost here,” Mary revealed. “I can’t even count how many times I got lost at Hawthorne House and a maid would have to escort me back to your room.”

  “Surely you are not that terrible at directions,” Emmeline joked.

  “It is a curse, milady,” Mary said dramatically. “I also took the liberty of speaking to the cook on your behalf. If you’re lucky, you will be getting pudding with every meal.”

  Emmeline laughed. “I do love pudding.”

  “I am well aware.”

  Glancing at the traveling trunks, Emmeline asked, “Would you like me to assist you as you unpack?”

  “I won’t turn down your assistance, if you are willing.”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

  Mary opened the first trunk. “Then let us begin.”

  With an empty glass in his hand, Oliver stared at the crackling fire as he contemplated how utterly miserable he truly was. Emmeline had left for Whitstable three days ago, and he found he couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on her. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Emmeline’s lovely face came to his mind.

  His wife was becoming a distraction in his life, and he didn’t need any more distractions. He was an agent of the Crown, and he had no time for such things as emotions. They made you vulnerable, weak. And he was neither of those things.

  So why did he have the urge to chase after his wife and beg her to return home?

  Emmeline said that she would return to Hawthorne House on her own, so he just needed to be patient. But that was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day, and he was forced to begrudgingly admit to himself that he missed her. He shouldn’t, but he did, desperately.

  He missed the way her eyes would light up when she spoke about something that interested her, or how she laughed freely and unconstrained. He missed bantering back and forth with her. Emmeline had brought joy back into his life, something that he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. But it mattered not. He still couldn’t pursue his feelings, because he never could be entirely honest with her. He was always going to hold a part of himself back from her.

  As much as he griped about his assignment, he still loved being an agent. It was ingrained into his very soul.

  The door to the study opened, and Jane stepped into the room. When her eyes landed on him, they flashed with annoyance.

  “I am sorry for disturbing whatever it is you are doing,” Jane said dryly, “but I am looking for Baldwin. Have you seen him?”

  “I have not.”

  “You have hardly left this study since Emmeline left.”

  Oliver tightened his hold on his glass at the sound of his wife’s name. “I will be sure to inform Baldwin that you are looking for him.”

  Jane turned to leave, but she stopped at the doorway. She spun back around, then said, “I have never taken you for a coward before.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I have taken you for a blackguard, jackanapes, rake, gambler, and a nincompoop, but never for a coward.”

  “Thank you for that, dear sister,” he mocked.

  Jane walked further into the room, stopping at the chair next to him. She placed her hands on the back and asked, “Why aren’t you going after Emmeline?”

  Oliver clenched his jaw. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand my reasons.”

  “I am not a child anymore, Oliver.”

  “I am well aware of that.”

  “Then please do not treat me as such,” Jane asserted.

  Oliver leaned to the side and placed his glass onto a side table. “My reasons are my own, and I have no intention of sharing them with you or anyone.”

  Jane stared at him for a long moment before saying, “You are a fool.”

  He grunted. “I see that we are back to the name calling.”

  “You willingly let your wife leave Hawthorne House, and you are doing nothing about it.”

  “Emmeline said she would return, and I am taking her at her word.”

  Arching an eyebrow, Jane asked, “What if Emmeline is having a deliriously enjoyable time in Whitstable and decides not to return?”

  “That is her choice,” he grumbled. “I will not force Emmeline to reside with me.”

  “I don’t understand you, Brother,” Jane said. “You have changed so much these past few years that I hardly know who you are anymore.”

  “I am the same person.”

  Jane shook her head. “After Charlotte left you, I have watched you make one horrendous decision after another.”

  “That isn’t true,” he argued.

  “My friends have distanced themselves from me because they don’t want to associate with the sister of a rakehell.”

  Oliver frowned. “I hadn’t realized that my actions were affecting you.”

  “Frankly, you have noticed very little about me since you left Oxford.”

  Oliver met her gaze and held it. “Is that why you hold me in such disdain?”

  Jane pressed her lips together as she seemed to ponder his question. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t hate you, if that is what you are asking. But I do believe you are throwing away your chance at true happiness with Emmeline.”

  “In what way?”

  Jane came around the chair and sat down. “I know that you married her to save her from marrying the duke, and I find that admirable. But I have seen the way you look at Emmeline, and I know you hold her in some regard.”

  “I do,” he replied, seeing no reason to deny it.

  “Then why don’t you cast off your rake persona and attempt to make your marriage real?”

  “It is not that simple.”

  “It should be.”

  “But it is not.”

  “Why?” Jane asked.

  Oliver turned his gaze towards the fire in the hearth. “Emmeline doesn’t trust me,” he said. “She has told me as much.”

  “Then earn her trust,” she encouraged.

  “I can’t give Emmeline what she wants,” Oliver said. “She is asking too much of me.”

  Jane eyed the empty glass as she inquired, “You would rather continue living as you are and drink yourself into oblivion?”

  “It is better this way.”

  “Better for whom?”

  Oliver shifted his gaze towards the fire. “Leave it, Jane,” he growled.

  She considered him for a moment, then asked, “What changed between us? We used to be so close growing up.”

&nbs
p; “That we were,” he agreed.

  “After father died, Baldwin left, and you disappeared, as well.”

  “That isn’t true. I escorted you and Mother to balls, soirées, and even house parties,” he defended.

  “Just because someone is standing next to you, doesn’t mean that person is truly present.”

  Glancing over at her, Oliver asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “Your eyes were always alert, as if you were watching everyone in the room but us.”

  Oliver shifted uncomfortably in his chair, knowing his sister spoke the truth.

  Jane continued. “I know that may sound ridiculous, but it was how I felt.”

  “I’m sorry that you felt that way. It was never my intention to make you feel any less important than you are to me.”

  Jane offered him a sad smile. “Thank you for that.”

  “I am not a perfect man, but I am trying to do what’s right.”

  “How is that possible when you aren’t fighting for Emmeline?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Oliver let out a deep sigh. “You must trust me when I say that Emmeline is better off without me.”

  “I don’t believe that to be true,” Jane said, rising, “and I think, deep down, you don’t believe the rubbish you are saying either.”

  As he watched his sister walk slowly towards the door, he called after her. “I would like things to change between us,” he remarked. “Truly.”

  Jane stopped and turned back around to face him. “As would I, Oliver, but these things take time. There is no easy fix between us.”

  “I understand.”

  “But I will try to avoid making so many disparaging comments,” she hesitated, “assuming your actions do not infuriate me.”

  A smile came to his lips. “I can accept that.”

  “I am happy to hear it.” Jane’s lips twitched as she glanced over at the darkened window. “Will you be joining us for supper this evening?”

  “I believe I shall.”

  “That will make Mother very happy,” Jane replied before she departed from the room.

  Oliver stared at the empty doorway, pleased at the progress he had made with Jane. That was the first time they’d had a real conversation since his father had passed away.

  His brother’s voice broke through his musings. “That was rather touching,” Baldwin declared as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.